


And Then There Were Four

by kitty_is_tired



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Clint Barton, Avengers Fest, Because of Reasons, Brief Mention of Bondage, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Multi, No actual sex, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-22 15:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4841168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_is_tired/pseuds/kitty_is_tired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha wasn’t sure there were words to explain it, how they all fit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then There Were Four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miazilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miazilla/gifts).



> Special thanks to lazywriter7, who named this fic, and the Avengers Fest Mods, who made this possible.

Natasha wasn’t sure there were words to explain it, how they all fit together. She’d never needed the words, because nobody had ever asked her about the four of them. Natasha didn't know if this was out of respect for their relationship, fear of her, or something else entirely. They weren’t soulmates, that was stupid. Those didn’t exist, and even if they did, Natasha wasn’t sure she’d have one. She didn’t need soulmates, however. Not when she had this. Not when this was so, so perfect.

It had started off as her and Steve. Just the two of them. A few months after Loki attacked Manhattan, Natasha and Steve had stayed up, one night, talking. Steve was so honest that it hurt, and so Natasha had leaned in and kissed him. Steve had pulled back, almost immediately, body interested but brain confused. “You’re a sub?” he’d asked softly, “I coulda sworn you weren’t.” Natasha had tipped her head back and laughed. “You’re cute,” she’d said, because there was no simple answer to that question. Not after the Red Room. Not after what they’d made her, and what she’d made herself.

They didn’t have sex, that night, but they did sleep together. It was nice, in a way Natasha wasn’t accustomed to. She slept surprisingly well, and apparently she wasn’t the only one, because it happened again. And again. And again. And then then finally, weeks later, when they did have sex, it didn’t feel like a big step. It felt like a logical progression, and Natasha hadn’t been sure how to feel about that. Other than good, because sex with Captain America? Yeah, fantastic.

Finding out that HYDRA was SHIELD, however? Markedly less fantastic. That whole situation had been a shit-show from the start. It hurt, of course, the betrayal. Being shot at by agents she’d worked with, bled with, trusted. But a small part of Natasha, a little Russian girl who forever lurked in the back of her mind, had always expected this. Not this exact scenario, but close enough. Close enough that she could hold herself together without too much effort until this was done. Over. Taken care of.

The Winter Soldier had changed things, however. Not for her, Natasha had no problem with staying professional, even in a situation like this. No, it changed things for Steve. Apparently the Winter Soldier was Bucky Barnes, and shit, if that wasn’t a plot twist. Natasha had been worried, admittedly. Worried that Steve would ditch her and run after Bucky. She wouldn’t have blamed him. 

Instead, Steve had drug her off to tell her a little about Sam Wilson. “He’s amazing,” Steve had told her, “he’s so brave and I think, I think I’d be a good fit, with us.” Natasha had blinked four times in rapid succession, which was the superspy equivalent of gaping. Natasha had told Steve she’d think about it, and Steve had smiled like she was the most amazing creature he’d ever seen. Which was rather amusing, because Natasha had met Peggy Carter. Forty minutes with the woman and Natasha had practically been head over heels herself.

Steve would tell Natasha, later, that he’d told Peggy about the two of them, once, when visiting her. Peggy had raised a wrinkled hand to snicker behind until Steve had become mildly alarmed she’d never stop. “Oh Steve,” Peggy had said, finally, “let it never be said that you don’t have the best of taste.” 

Steve had replied with a significant glance and, “well, I woulda thought you’d have known that already, ma’am,” which had sent Peggy into laughter once more.

Natasha hadn’t been too sure about Sam, at first, but it didn’t take too long for the woman to see that Steve was right. Sam was a calming influence on them both, knowing what to say when words would be appreciated, and what to do when they were not. Just having him around laid more than one of Steve and Natasha’s insecurities to rest, when Natasha knew full-well that he should have done the opposite.

Inviting Sam into their relationship was easy. Natasha had expected the man to ask for time to consider, or at least a minute to process. Instead, his grin had grown wider than the redhead had ever seen it. “Took you two long enough,” Sam had stated, “I haven’t been able to so much as stretch for days without one of you looking at me like you’re going to pounce.” Natasha, who hated to keep a nice sub like Sam waiting, had smirked wickedly, and did just that.

Bucky, on the other hand, had been a great deal more complicated. He’d shown up in their flat one day, sitting on the foot of the bed- Steve’s side of the bed, Natasha hadn’t failed to notice- with eyes as wide as saucers. 

It was Sam who Bucky had clung to, once he’d started to settle. Steve hadn’t understood that, having expected Bucky to attach himself to someone familiar, but Natasha understood. Bucky remembered pieces, fragments. Steve and Natasha- Stevie and Natalia, to Bucky- were painful, still. Sam was a blank slate, completely without expectations, and moreso, a sub. Spending time with Sam would feel easier, safer, at least until Bucky had gotten his bearings properly.

Things were hard, for a while. Sam poured energy into helping Bucky, while Natasha dedicated a substantial amount of hers into being a comforting presence to Steve as he accepted the new status quo. It was hard for the super soldier to look at Bucky and know that, while Bucky was living in their guest bedroom, _his_ Bucky wasn’t around anymore. Probably never would be.

There is little time can’t fix, however, and it didn’t take long for Bucky to be, if not great, then okay. During the process of which, the man had moved from their guest bedroom, to the bottom of their bed, to sprawled over Steve with an arm around Sam and feet tangled with Natasha’s. 

The first night with all four of them had been so tentative, the very air around them had felt fragile. Sam had tried to sit out so he didn’t get in the way, and Steve had asked them all if they were okay at least ten times, and Natasha had twisted her shoulder but not said a word because the boys would spook, and Bucky and almost hit Steve for not fucking him already. 

But the second time had gone better. And the third time had gone better than that. And before long they’d all but forgotten the four of them together being anything but smooth and natural as a well-oiled machine. They talked and cooked and fought and fucked like four parts of a whole.

Natasha thought she’d known what true joy was, before, but she’d been wrong. True joy was waking up to Sam’s pancakes and a foot rub. It was watching Steve and Bucky spend all day undressing each other with their eyes, only for the day to end in Natasha undressing them both. It was watching Tony choke on his scotch, as she and Pepper debated the best way to tie up their boys. It was talking to Coulson, and having him tell her that he’d ask for pictures, if he didn’t think it’d get him stabbed by a certain someone with a metal arm. It was Clint wrinkling his nose and looking at her with faux-disgust, poor little asexual mind struggling to comprehend how sex with four people at once could possibly work. It was sending Sam down into subspace, and seeing nothing but trust and adoration in his eyes. It was falling asleep, knowing she’d wake to Sam, Steve, and Bucky in the morning. 

Maybe love was for children. But if this was what love felt like? An argument could be made that children had the right idea, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
